"... I-I knew you had it in you."
Blood runs rivers from the Irish Elk, the bear skull no longer hiding his face; cracked and broken, sprinkled across the desolate earth. Iaurdagnire stands over him, body heaving with every rasped breath. A mixture of blood and foam drips from his mouth, yet the minutes that passed seemed silent to them. They stare at each other, and their angered faces grow soft in a mixture of relief and... the most deepest of sorrows. Both are at a loss of what to say, what to do. It had happened. It was done. That inevitable loss of life for another one's gain.

It may have been Iaurdagnire's life that had been taken for centuries before, but today it was Summer's that would be extinguished.
One of the four masters of him.
One of the four of his captures.
One of the four of his wolves that chase him from his dawn and till his dusk.
One of the four he has conquered.

Many would feel like that of a God for what he has done.

Many, but not him.

"... You were my friend... My friend..."
His voice is weak, gurgling; the taste of iron. Flies already begin to gather on the only just breathing carcass. His eyes are open, and they begin to roll back but stop. The world stays still, and time slows. There is a choke of blood, and the dying stag's mouth remains agape and chatters. His body convulses for but a moment...




.. "I lied."



And then he is gone.



Dag's body quivers as he watches Summer's name fade, then finds the light of his as it reappears above his head.
"No... N-No, what have I done."
Tears. Weakness. Terror.
"L-Lied? What do you mean, Summer... Summer!"
A strike from his antlers. Madness. Flies scatter.
"I've killed him... I've killed my friend... my brother..."
A roar of anguish. He collapses.
Guilt. Remorse.
Iaurdagnire lays in his conquest's blood and lets his body succumb to the exhaustion of his relentless crusade, cradling Summer's head with the bridge of his nose.

"What have you done."

A voice whispers from beyond the dark, but Dag is not interested. If it is one the creatures left to destroy, then let it come. He doesn't care. Doesn't care for what really is two gargantuan deer standing behind him.

One is red, the other is gold.

"This was never meant to happen... Neither of you were ever meant to get this far."
Dag is intrigued by this admittance. He knows now that the two speaking are in fact the Gods of the forest. Ordinarily, he would get up and face them out of respect. But no. He closes his eyes and remains with the body of his friend.
"You gave them me as a "gift". I killed him. I killed Summer. I am free now... leave me alone."

"You arrogant fool."

Dag's ear snap back. The rage of battle still lingered,
"Fool? Fool? What was I meant to do. There was never a plan, one way or another I would die because of them. Because of him... I had no choice. It's over. It's all over."
The Red grew brighter and edged closer.
"Summer was never meant to die. In his death you have signed the other Seasons to their doom... Without them, you have forsaken your kind. You have forsaken this forest."
Dag's eyes clench hearing The Red's angry words. He stands, growling through the pain of the wounds Summer had inflicted upon him. It takes some time for him to find the strength to turn and face them, but he does, and his expression is that of utter disgust and damnation.
"You."
Spat a war-fresh voice that is vile and thick with hatred,
"You are the ones who forsook me from the very beginning. You dare say I have done wrong."

The Gods do not incise the brute standing before them. Instead their expressions are stern, unreadable, however their colours dim and brighten with emotion; the strongest fluxations leap from the body like granules on the surface of the sun.
"We made a mistake that cannot be corrected. Your past lives have been non the wiser to your purpose... you have taught the Seasons well."
"Too well. It began as a simpletons pondering about our living creatures, but you gave them your personalities. A way of thinking; a desire for more due to new-found intelligence."
"We were afraid such a day would come where the most advanced of our servants, Summer, would fail. In his physical death, your freedom is only secured in the forthcoming failure of the others to perform their duty."
"... H-He did lie... I-I'm not free..."
"The Seasons cannot function without each other. Remove Summer, and the rest will follow. They will fail in their purpose and die, and without them the forest we created is lost."
"Life depends on the Seasons, Iaurdagnire."

Throughout their speech, Dag's head sinks lower and lower. This is it. He had given up; everything that had happened during the past year was worth nothing. He expects he is to be killed for this murder. For killing what should have remained impossible if not for their own greed.

"...We wish to make a bargain with you. For your freedom."

"A bargain..."
Any interest or enthusiasm for alternatives has been bled dry. His tired, listless voice sways in the stale air, just as his body does with the weight of the world mapped all over his face.
"What... What bargain... There is no bargain... Don't you understand? Don't any of you get it?"
Such a sudden assault rendered the Gods silent.
"Freedom. Freedom in the general sense, do you think that is what I want? I already have it! What is it you think - you think this is all because I am afraid to die? I am afraid of nothing. Not you, not them, not death."
His posture stiffens. The affirmation of his words is now carried in the way he is standing; he faces them with an aura that cannot be dominated. A Fortress in his own right.

"Deer die all the time. They do. And you know what happens? They linger as ghosts, or even come back from the dead because they cannot let go of this place. Death is an illusion of choice in this world, but me? Because of you - because of them - I have no choice. Whether I remember past lives or not, it is the thought of me being tossed around in era's past present and future for someone else's game that I cannot stand. I want to be the master of my own destiny, not hounded by those who wish to dictate it."

"If and when I die, I don't want to die knowing that at some other time some other place, I'll be reborn again as something different. I want to grow old. I want to be the old coot telling stories under a willow of years gone by. I want to move through this forest and become part of it, slowly fade into the background like all the old do. I want to die because I have lived, and let go when there is no life left in me.
When I die... I want to die. That is all I want."

The Gods look as if they've been told off. They turn to each other, the fires of their pelts dwindling to embers. Everything seems whiter somehow.
"... Then so be it."
Dag looks at them questionably.
"Your tie to the Seasons can be broken, but you must undo what you have done."
With a heavy heart, Dag turns to look behind at the lifeless body of his friend.
"It cannot be undone. I have killed him."
The Gods say nothing. They look as if they are waiting, and they are right to. No sooner does Dag turn back to face them, his eyes widen as if he's had an epiphany.
"... My lives taught them all that they are. It is impossible for me to have taught them a mortal death."
There is a sense of urgency in his voice,
"What happens to me when I am killed by them. How is it that I can die and be reborn."
"... When a Season renders your body of no use, the name falls into the guard of our sibling God. He is the guardian of all names upon death; when any of our children die, their names fall into his possession. But he can never possess yours - he is simply a keeper of it until the Seasons wish it to be used again."
"... You're not talking about-"
"-Velocity."
Dag struggles to stop himself from falling to the ground in sheer disbelief.
"That... That sleeping oaf?!"
"Yes. And that "sleeping oaf" is who now guards Summer's name. His body will remain here, but you will need the name to allow him to exist as a Season again. Once you have done that, and righted your wrong, we will end your purpose unto them."

"... How."

"Autumn, Winter and Spring. You must vow to help them in executing their duties; they will now weaken due to the absence of their brother. If you make sure all complete their cycle and get to Summer's time, Velocity will be waiting for you. This is not to say they cannot still try and threaten to kill you... old habits die hard."
"I must promise to do as they do?"
Suddenly there is a faint source of heat coming from behind him not too dissimilar from what he felt emanating from the creatures he had slaughtered. He swings around ready to protect the body, but he finds nothing upon it... There is also no blood, no torn flesh, open wounds... Summer's body looks untouched. It is statuesque, looking neither live nor dead, and the entirety of it has taken on the blistered volcanic hues of his home; he is part of the landscape.
"What do I do when I get to Summer's time... What do I do when I Vel-"
But the Gods are no longer there.

With his name returned to him, Iaurdagnire can now walk from this devastation back to where he belongs. But he doesn't for some time. He walks. He thinks. He wonders if this, too, is just another elaborate rouse designed to keep him moving throughout eternity.

Only when he has accepted what has been asked of him does he find a way home.